


Pet Shop Boys

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animals, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Castiel in the Bunker, Dean is Not Amused, Dean is a Softie, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Protective Sam, Sam is a Saint, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:04:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4400138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam never claimed to be the most perceptive person in the world, but he knows the tell-tale signs of inquietude. </p><p>He had his head buried in the Encyclopedia of Otherworldly Encounters—which might as well have been the Men of Letter’s sloppy prequel to the Winchester Gospels—but his expression conveyed no interest in it whatsoever. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed tight, like he was steeling himself to say something that could start the second coming of the Spanish Inquisition. </p><p>It was like he was a world away, which wasn’t a good sign considering the last time he severed connections with reality was when he became God. "Something on your mind, Cas?"	</p><p>Or the one where Sam and Cas finally get what they've both wanted for a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pet Shop Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Because I have a couple canon complaints and I'm going to roll them into one passive-aggressive fiction.

Sam never claimed to be the most perceptive person in the world, but he knows the tell-tale signs of inquietude.

He had his head buried in the _Encyclopedia of Otherworldly Encounters_ —which might as well have been the Men of Letter’s sloppy prequel to the _Winchester Gospels_ —but his expression conveyed no interest in it whatsoever. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed tight, like he was steeling himself to say something that could start the second coming of the Spanish Inquisition.

It was like he was a world away, which wasn’t a good sign considering the last time he severed connections with reality was when he became God. "Something on your mind, Cas?"     

The angel didn't look up to meet the youngest of John Winchester's sons as he tersely replied, "No."

“Really,” Sam tested, closing _The Djinn Diaries Volume I_ to rake his pained features once more, “because you look like you’re sucking on a lemon. What’s up?”

It was a moment before Cas began speaking, but when he did he had shifted his eyes to the floor. “Do you recall when we were in this room and you posed a comment about having a guinea pig? And I had taken it quite literally until you explained it was a figure of speech…”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, Cas, I remember. That was, like, over a year ago.”

“Precisely,” he replied, licking his lips (a human habit that screamed Dean). “It’s just, I was wondering if there was the possibility of guinea pig adoption in the near future? I’ve been reading up about the domestication of guinea pigs and they’re actually very self-dependent animals and wouldn’t require much attention other than the occasional grooming, feeding, and nurturing is essential to their development, of course—”

Sam curtailed his longwinded thoughts with a laugh, “Cas, you know I don’t have a problem with animals, but this is Dean’s place too, you know? He’s not exactly the lovie-dovie type when it comes to things that shed.” He regretted those words the second they came out because Cas, whose eyes lit with euphoria for the first time since they sat down, had hung his head, crestfallen.

“You’re right; it was impetuous of me to ask. Forget I mentioned it.”

Sam shook his head as he watched the angel resume to his reading. After his encounter with Portia—the canine familiar that angled for more than a belly rub when she showed up on his doorstep—he can’t say he hasn’t thought of sheltering another stray. But Dean had his rules like Sam had his, and he was either going to respect them or—

Sam pushed himself out of his chair. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Cas queried, closing his book, but Sam was already ascending the stairs, running out of the bunker faster than the angel could say Christo.

***

Initially, the adoption plan entailed two pets. Initially was the operative word.

What they end up coming home with is three guinea pigs—according to Castiel’s sources“a guinea survives better with a partner,” and “Sam, that one is going to be lonely without the other two”—and two Dobermans because Sam was influenced by his friend’s former reasoning.

And they were on sale, how could he refuse a bargain with floppy ears and pleading brown eyes?

Dean came home the following afternoon after a particularly harrowing hunt. So it was no surprise when he came through the door unfettering his .45 at the bevy of animals crowding around his feet. He stowed his gun with a growl and Sam heard his cue clear across the bunker: “ _SAM!_ ”

Sam sat comfy in the war room as he watched Cas hail the flight of stairs to meet Dean. Though he couldn’t hear much over the grumbling of his two new pups, the blush on his brother’s face was all too evident when Cas cradled one of the distrait guineas close to his face. The youngest knew after six excruciating years putting up with his crap that Dean would play the role of Old McDonald if it meant keeping Cas happy.

And if he didn’t, then he’d have two very angry guard dogs on his hands.


End file.
